Rainbow
by MixItUp
Summary: Spike tries to help. Domestic post-Chosen AU/futurefic.


Rainbow

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_Notes: _This is in some happy, post-Chosen non-comics AU where Buffy and Spike are married. In response to an anonymous challenge prompt to incorporate "Hey, have you seen the…? Oh." in a Spike/Buffy story.

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Buffy swore under her breath. Okay, maybe it wasn't so much under her breath as like, really loudly. Whatever. Nobody was around, and she was really, really running way behind.

Dawn was hosting the annual Survivors-of-Sunnydale Christmas gathering, and Buffy had fulfilled her big sisterly duty of completely forgetting until the day of. Dawn probably expected no less. So, in order to prove herself as a bona fide adult to her no-longer-kid sister, this day had been full of running around, doing errands, and trying to bake the sugar cookies she'd promised to bring like, seven months ago. She really needed a planner or something. Maybe, if she was lucky, Willow would be her Secret (Jewish/Wiccan) Santa and would have bought her one. That seemed like a Willow-y gift.

She had already baked the cookies and left them to cool while she went to the store to buy champagne (as a Christmas/New Year's/housewarming gift for Dawn) and a Star Wars calendar (for Andrew, since she was his Secret Santa). When she came back, the apartment still smelled like warm, delicious cookies. Buffy took a deep breath, savoring the smell.

Dawn probably wouldn't miss if she ate like, one, right? Especially before it was frosted. That was like required. If she were an ancient lord or whatever, it would be her feudal payment. She was totally entitled.

Feeling sneaky, she walked into the kitchen and stopped short. The cookies were gone. Completely, totally not even there.

After running through several possibilities in her head - demon cookie-eating dogs, or a devious poltergeist, or even her next-door neighbor whom she suspected might be a ghoul - she realized something else. Clunky black boots were sitting by the balcony door. Spike was home, and, it appeared, outside. No chance of him getting dusty - they were well into dusk now, and thirty minutes away from being late to the party. She poked her head through the door.

"Hey, have you seen the…? Oh."

Buffy stopped short and stared in bewilderment for a moment. Spike looked back at her, deceptively innocent blue eyes full of something like guilt.

Then - she couldn't help it. She started grinning, then laughing, and before she knew it she was doubled over and holding onto the rails for support.

Spike, the formerly badass vampire who'd sworn to kill her and had later become her friend, her lover, and finally her husband, was basically all the colors of the rainbow. By all appearances, he'd taken a bath in food coloring. His hands, especially, were red and blue, but green specks covered his bare arms and a suspicious yellow smear adorned his face. Several discarded bowls sat on the table, full of a watery, sugary substance. And there, in front of him, were the cookies, dripping with thin colorful goo and looking completely inedible.

His eyes were wild. "I, uh, well, I came home and you weren't there - and I remembered the cookies, 'course, so I went about finding the frosting but it wasn't in any of the cupboards. So I figured I'd make it myself, but…it looked so much easier on that bloody YouTube video." Spike threw his rainbowy hands up. "Damn stuff is all over. I'm sorry, pet."

Buffy managed to choke back her laughter long enough to say, "The frosting's in the fridge, I thought I'd let it thicken. Dummy." She meant it affectionately, of course, but he still looked a little put out.

"Just wanted to help, that's all," he said sourly. Still giggling, she leaned forward and kissed his lips, knowing that as she did so she would probably color her own lips blue from all the dye that had found its way to his face.

It was worth it, if just to see him make that little seductive face when he looked like he'd just lived through a Skittles commercial. "We can buy them on the way over," she assured him, throwing an arm around him. "That's what I do every year anyway."

And, while he was still smiling, she took a picture of him with her phone. Forget the planner - this was way better than any Christmas gift.


End file.
